Tattoo On The Soul
by Petrichorlove
Summary: A collection of angsty vignettes (largely) from the show. "Because only he knew all the words to tear her apart and stitch her back together."
1. Unconditional

_**Unconditional -**_

She was drunk.

That was the first thing Ranveer noticed when he stepped into the small pub that was filled with large crowds of sweaty bodies. The uninhibited, graceful, yet unsteady sashay of her hips as she sauntered over to a stool, next to a man with a broad chest and a tight T shirt who spoke too loudly. She had on the same blue dress she had worn on her date with Chirag a few years ago - although it seemed to be a lifetime. It rode up to her thighs when she sat, revealing creamy skin, and Ranveer gnashed his teeth together as the stranger's eyes traced the expanse of them hungrily, the fury begging to emerge.

He strode stiffly over to them, taking a hold of her arm and spinning her stool. She squeaked in surprise before she saw him, her expressions flitting from one of amusement to shock and finally settled on annoyance and a slight bit of unfettered curiosity as she looked him up and down, as if making sure he was really there.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, before trying to turn back to the stranger, but Ranveer's hold on her was stronger and prevented her from twisting.

"Taking you home." He said firmly, his voice flat with irritation. He tried to pull her towards him, attempting to lift her off her seat, but Ishaani resisted, placing her palms against his chest, trying to push him away.

"You're not taking me anywhere. I happen to be having fun." She snapped.

"This guy bothering you?" Beefy guy with the tight T shirt stood up, sizing Ranveer, his dark eyes hostile.

Ranveer slowly took his hand off her arm, as he stepped towards the stranger, his body placed between Ishaani and the beefy guy.

"I'm her..." He swallowed. "I'm her f**king boyfriend." He practically snarled. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ishaani's head whip up in disbelief and shock while the beefy guy eyed him sceptically, looking at Ishaani instead. She looked at Ranveer stonily, angry that he wouldn't leave them alone. She moved past Ranveer to whisper to the stranger conspiratorially, "It's okay," she said smirking, before eyeing Ranveer defiantly, "He's my f**king boyfriend."

The man inclined his head towards Ranveer, giving him one last tough look, before getting up and shooting Ishaani a wink, that said, _Next time then. _

Ranveer then turned to her, the fight in him dying immediately as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ishaani, please come with me." he said tiredly.

She seemed to sense something because she conceded and hopped off the stool. "Since you asked so nicely." She shot him a cheeky grin. Yep, she was really drunk. If she was sober, she would be mad at him. If she was sober, she would walk away as always, not sag into his chest as he led her out of the stuffy air of the bar and into the cool breeze of the night.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked once they were on the road and walking towards his car. She stilled in his arms as he waited for her answer in the silence of the night. Ten heartbeats later, she responded.

"I was thinking, if Chirag can do it, so can I." She said quietly.

Ranveer remained silent, knowing this was not something she would have said with a clear mind; just keeping his arm around her, and making soothing circles on her shoulder. She continued, "But you. You always come for me, don't you? Save me from all the danger, all the grief and pain. You tried to tell me about Chirag so many times, but I never believed you. I'm so sorry, Ranveer. Even though you're rich now, you're RV now, you're still my best friend inside. You don't hate me. And you still love me. I see it in your eyes now. Why? I'm a terrible person. Is that how you've felt all along Ranveer? The one person you loved with every bit of you, only to realize that they never loved you? It hurts here," she whispered, jabbing her chest. "Somewhere inside me, I know you hadn't done anything to Disha. You're innocent, aren't you? But I didn't know how to deal with it - you loved me, and I didn't. Ranveer, you've always been there for me, and the one time you needed me to be there for you, to support you, I chose to walk away. I'm so -" She babbled before he cut her off.

"Ishaani." Ranveer angled his body away from hers to that he could look at her. He bent his knees so that they were at eye level, taking her face in her hands with infinite gentleness. "I've never held you responsible, okay?" Her eyes shimmered with tears, frustration and impatience as she pushed his hands away and stepped back.

"You should dammit! I hurt you again and again. I've never deserved you. Not as a friend, and I definitely don't deserve your love. Yet, somehow, you keep coming back."

"Maybe I'm a masochist." He smiled wanly, humourlessly, even as his heart squeezed.

"Maybe you're a masochist, but I'm cruel." she said, the tears finally spilling over.

"I chose you, Ishaani, and I'd do it again. I'll take the pain, and the heartbreak over the empty life I would be living without you in it."

"You deserve someone who loves you back equally, Ranveer." She whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

"Maybe." He agreed, shrugging. "But I chose you. I don't expect you to love me back, Ishaani."

"Ranveer -"

"Shush. You're cold. Let's get you home." He said, taking her hand once again and leading her towards the car parked nearby. When she didn't follow, he looked back at her.

"Can we...can we sit here for a while?"

Ranveer smiled before turning back and leading her to sit on the cold bench under a tree. She snuggled closer in the security of his arms, tucking her head under his chin. "You're so warm."

Ranveer chuckled, and Ishaani could hear the sound rumble and reverberate in his chest. "And you're drunk." She was quiet for a long moment, and the next time she spoke, her voice was almost inaudible.

"This was the dress I wore during that date with Chirag a long time ago. I want to hate him so much Ranveer, I really do. But I can't. The only person I hate is myself for trusting and loving him." Her tears were staining his suit, but in that moment, Ranveer couldn't care less. Without thinking, he kissed her hair, pressing her closer to him.

He wanted to kill Chirag.

Her long, soft fingers found his rough, calloused ones - hardened from years of living as a servant - and intertwined them. "See, we fit together perfectly - like puzzles. We're so alike, aren't we?" She let out a harsh laugh. "Trusting the ones we love blindly, even as they hurt us, breaking us bit by bit. We're both the black sheep, the outcasts. Remember how you told me the family may hate us both, but we have Papa's love? There's no Papa anymore."

"We have each other." Ranveer said softly.

"No." She tilted her head upwards to look at him, her eyelashes brushing against his cheek. "I wasn't there for you before, but now I want to be. I'll never leave you again, Ranveer."

He wanted so badly to believe her, but he couldn't afford the luxury to do so. After all, there was only so much his heart could take. He couldn't cause it to shatter again by living on false promises - this time, perhaps the pieces would be lost forever and he wouldn't be able to put himself together again. He couldn't fall apart before completing what he came back to Mumbai for - revenge.

She was so close, her _lips_ were so close. It was almost as if they were breathing each other's air. It would be so easy. It would be so easy to just bend down, cup her face and kiss those inviting lips, savouring the taste of her. In his times of solitude, after she had walked away from him, he could replay the moment in his head, memorising the feel of her in his arms. He could add this delicate, fragile moment - which was so precious - to his dreams - etch it in his mind forever. He knew it was rare and he was never getting this chance again, and he should kiss her while he could.

But that's not how it worked, not at this time, not with this girl when she was drunk and vulnerable and pining over another guy. She was never his - not to have, and not to covet.

It wasn't like he had a broken heart - not like hers anyway. He didn't have mutual memories with her that were lost because of a huge betrayal. He had never lost her because he never had her in the first place. He always knew she would never love him, yet he continued to. Nothing had changed. Even though the fuel behind his relentless hard work that made him the man he was today was the determined need to avenge his family's and his own humiliation, it was her smiling face that his mind and heart returned to at night, just before he fell asleep. It was her memory that kept him sane and prevented him from losing himself inside the web of rage that he had woven and getting trapped in that bottled misery. He knew she didn't love him and he could live with that. Because above all, he wanted Ishaani to be happy. Wanted her to be loved and in love. She deserved that and so much more. She deserved to have her life brimming with all the joy in the world.

It's not like he had a broken heart. But it still hurt, and he couldn't help shed a few tears when he thought she wasn't looking.

So instead, he looked at their interlocked hands, and squeezed tightly.


	2. Now that you're gone

_**1\. Now that you're gone -**___

_I wanted to explore Ishaani's thoughts for a change. I think her feelings towards Ranveer will catalyse with the entrance of Hritika, so this is what I came up with. _

She couldn't remember why she had thought coming to the party was a good idea. She told herself that it was only because Chirag had insisted and she didn't have the energy to decline the offer, - not that she wanted to see Ranveer. After all, it was hosted by her father's closest friend - Mr Zaveri. He were celebrating the establishment of his partnership with RV..._Ranveer, _her mind eagerly supplied. The room was too bright - every bauble and glittering star that hung from the ceiling caught the light and blinded her. It reeked of money and sophistication. A part of her wondered since when was SHE repelled by wealth? She had grown up amidst it.

She knew the real problem.

Ranveer clad in a handsome tailor made suit and Hritika Zaveri hanging off his arm, looking stunning in a silver gown that shimmered and flowed like a river when she walked. Ishaani hated the way he laughed whenever she whispered something in his ears.

_Jealousy. _

Ishaani had never thought this was something she would feel regarding Ranveer. But she did.

She, Ishaani used to be the one who used to make him laugh like that - in those days when they were friends. Only she shared that kind of intimacy with him. There was a time when she had spent most of her growing up years with a boy who cared about her, whom she loved in her own way. She thought about how they would trudge into their secret den constantly bickering - drunk with laughter and warmth and companionship. When all they needed to sooth the wounds Baa had inflicted upon both of them with her scathing words was butterscotch ice-cream, noodles, DVDs and the comfort of each other's shadow. He laughed a lot around her - but sometimes, the mirth didn't reach his eyes, sometimes his eyes were hooded, as if harbouring a great secret. He had often caught her lost as she tried to figure out what was going on in _his_ mind, and snapped her out of it with another trivial comment.

It frustrated her. She liked knowing things and she hated that Ranveer could keep his thoughts away from her, gaze withdrawn, back turned - the perfect picture of avoidance wrapped behind a smiling face. If he was good at being evasive then, now he was a master of a blank canvas, white strokes on a colourless piece of fabric. If he was endearing, warm shyness then, he was cold, impenetrable ice now. Before, he hid to hide his true feelings from her, but now, it seemed to be indifference rather than pretence. The way he treated her at his office - the caustic dismissal and cutting words. His priorities had changed, he had grown up from being that boy with only one concern - the concern being _her._

The condensation that trickled down from her drink onto her fingers felt good on her hot skin, the air was stifling and the sight in front of her - unbearable.

She had to admit - it stung. It stung to see the person she yearned for now being in the arms of a stranger. It stung being around the person she had lost and now could never have, knowing it was her fault - she'd pushed him away until he was unattainable.

Chirag's hands squeezed hers, and she looked up at him with a forced smile, snapping out of her thoughts. Chirag, who had stood by her in these two years through all her hurdles - overcoming Ranveer's betrayal, the death of her father and losing all their property. She loved this man, she did.

Then why was it, that even after two years, Ranveer's presence still had an impact on her? It was as though his appearance itself had magnetic threads that pulled her to him, caused her to gravitate towards him - and she was helpless against that power. Chirag's touch, which had always felt so reassuring, now felt like restraining shackles that prevented her from reaching out to what she really desired.

And now as she looked at his face, she realized she wanted another pair of eyes to be looking and grinning at her - the man whose crooked smiles used to be able to instigate her own.

Ranveer.

She shook her head as she threw her drink back down her throat, the wine cool and crisp on her tongue. If he noticed her staring at him, he did nothing to acknowledge it.

It didn't surprise her that he pretended she wasn't there at all. He wanted revenge and she was the enemy. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't harbour that kind of hatred for him at all.

Instead of anger, his presence hit her with wave after wave of painful nostalgia. She so badly wanted to cling to familiar, comforting, _happy_ memories rather than face the truth. She could rattle off his favourite list of food, his favourite book, song, movie and actress, even how he loved the cheap beer he snuck into his room from time to time as they drank and talked into the night.

But now, looking at him sip the $500 Scotch gingerly, she wasn't so sure anymore. Her shoulders slumped as reality hit her in the face.

He was different now. She had made him different.

And this party _sucked_.


	3. Scars

The night had fallen without his notice, or consent, in a silent haze.

Time was elastic, meaningless, in this strange otherworldly space between the four walls.

There were no shadows. No movements.

None of her haunting presence.

He'd been lying in bed, forbidden to move by his mother, and surprisingly, Ishani although he had ignored the concern in her voice.

What was the use, it was all pretense.

It was her fakeness that hurt him more than anything else. Why did she have to smile at him tenderly, flinch when he hissed as she dabbed the bullet wound on his chest, gentler next time?

She just wanted to break him over and over, hit after hit to red pumping muscle, and all he wanted to do is scream.

He still loved her; of course he did, when all he wanted to do was uproot every image of her smiling face that was like blood in his veins. The red of the lips matched the red marks...the love bites that flashed across his mind immediately.

The sign of Chirag's ministrations, on the pious day of Karwa Chauth.

She had betrayed him. He didn't mind that he would never love her, but she had shattered the trust he had in her by going to seek comfort with the one he hated, even though she was _his_ wife.

He wouldn't show his love.

Not this time.

Never again.

The only reason he was still married to her because he had to fulfill Mota Babuji's promise of reuniting Ishani and Falguni Ma with their real father...or that what he told himself.

Often though, as he slipped in and out of consciousness, drowsy from all the medication, he dreamed of her. In these dreams, he had never stopped loving her, not for a second, not even in the thousand days they had been apart when his family and him were thrown out of Parekh House. In these dreams, by some miracle, she loved him back, love like a fever, burning so high, he had no strength to fight it, even though he did try.

Little did he know that Ishani indeed did love him that way now, he was just too blinded by his broken heart shrouded by misunderstanding to see it.

The door clicked, and Ranveer knew she had entered the room. He shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Pretending to hate her was harder on him somehow.

He was lying on top of the sheets and suddenly he felt the bed dip under her weight, as she covered him with another blanket, careful not to jostle the sling.

Her soft hands lingered on his forehead, gently stroking his hair in a comforting rhythm. He could feel something wet fall on his cheek then.

She was crying.

Her lips brushed his cheek, mingling with her tears before leaning away.

But before she could get off the bed, to take her place on the mattress on the floor, he caught her wrist.

"R-ranveer. What - what are you doing?" she stammered, red creeping up her cheeks.

His grip tightened cruelly as he dug his nails in.

"What are _you_ doing?" He sneered as he got up slowly.

"I'm just..." Her eyes flicked between the mattress on the floor and him uncertainly. "I was getting ready to sleep."

"Go on the floor. That's where you belong, anyway." He said flippantly, flinging the wrist in his grip carelessly.

She looked at him then, the fear and hesitation solidifying into fury.

"Why do you hate me so much all of a sudden?"

He wanted to laugh. She was good at this charade.

"I don't want to waste my breath talking to you."

An instant of pure rage blindsided on the headboard, which lay on either side of his face, making him flinch imperceptibly. She had asked, pleaded, _begged_ him to tell her.

Now she would demand.

"No! I'm not going anywhere until you tell me the reason. What did I do to you?"

Her face was inches away from his, eyes blazing, breathing heavily.

Ranveer noticed the tremor in her arms as she held him hostage, giving her away.

He smirked sarcastically, as she seethed in frustration, a little coiled snake.

He gave her a knowing, infuriating look as he tilted his face to catch her narrowed eyes, more raven black than chocolate brown.

"Are you annoyed that I didn't kiss you back, Mrs Ranveer Vaghela? You could put us both out of our misery, you know?"

He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing the same air, lips tingling. "I must say, it's nice to see you mad instead of crying for once. You know what they say...feisty and sexy in bed go together. You couldn't be a faithful wife, at least you'd be good for one thing..." His hand slipped down to grip the material of her gown at her waist, twisting it cruelly.

She recoiled as if he had slapped her.

"What? Or is anyone else but your husband allowed to touch you?" He tossed maliciously, but immediately regretted his words as he saw her eyes begin to water.

"Unfaithful? Why did you say that?"

He laughed, his grip on her waist tightening.

"Let me go, Ranveer. You're hurting me!" She sobbed, squirming.

"And me? What about my pain?" Taking her wrist adorned with red bangles with his good hand, he placed roughly on his bandaged chest.

"_You_ hurt me. You killed me." He shouted. "You broke _this."_His voice, laced with pain was now deceptively soft. "The stitches here...you're my scar. You never leave, marking me as yours, inerasable, opening my wounds and playing with my heart whenever you feel like it."

"_Why_, Ishani?" His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, pining her with his gaze until all she could see was his broken, brown depths.

"What...Ranveer...I don't understand..."

Her denial pierced through his sadness, bringing him back to his senses. He squeezed her wrist so hard, that the bangle broke and a glass piece cut her wrist, and from the wound emerged a bright, red spot of blood.

So many things were red.

Blood. Bangles. Hearts.

Anger.

_Love._

He couldn't take it anymore. Swinging his legs around the bed, he got up and strode out of the room swiftly, leaving her cold, alone, lost and as confused as she was fifteen minutes ago.

Absently stroking the mark his anger had left on her wrist, she doesn't understand the perverse satisfaction, the weird sense of justice being served, as she mused:

She was his scar, and he was hers.


	4. Yesterday, when you loved me

"Of course you're happy. Just like you, your daughter too trapped a hen who lays golden eggs with that deceptive, innocent charm and superficial looks. Apparently, this Ranveer is even more foolish than my Harshad, because he married Ishani even after Disha and I falsely implicated him in the molestation case..."

Ishani whipped around and slammed her back against the door hard, her heart thumping unable to listen to more. Surely what Baa had said couldn't be true? Ranveer was innocent?

She ran to her room - _their _room, she corrected herself and threw her body on the bed, her head swimming, and the tears forming. Ranveer had married her forcefully three months ago, saying that if she didn't marry him, he would ensure that the Parekhs lost the case. She had agreed, and thus came about three months of their whirlwind relationship together. She had assumed he'd married her for revenge, that the love he'd felt for her as a young boy had long died when his family and him were brutally thrown out two years ago. But his reaction to her had given her a whiplash. Her heart stuttered uncertainly around him. He had been cruel and calm and aloof; he had been tentative and apologetic and calming, he had been kind and helpful and contemplative. He had become the incarnation of so much unexpected in her life in the past few months - a source of fear and comfort.

Even in the two years that he was away from her life, his presence always lurked around her, like a phantom pain, like a tongue returning to the fleshy area where a tooth had been pulled out. Every touch by Chirag reminded her of the way Ranveer squeezed her hand that extra one time before letting go, the way he would pull at the ends of her hair playfully. Every day away from him was shattering her a bit, and at night, she would fervishly scan the few photos they had together - a conveyor belt of bittersweet images - desperate to cling to his memory. It was the only time, she let herself acknowledge the truth - that try as she might, she couldn't hate him. It was the only time she let herself accept that she preferred the constant bickering with Ranveer over the sickly sweet nothings Chirag whispered in her ear. It was the only time she let herself finally believe that the strange calmness she felt after Ranveer had stopped her wedding with Chirag and put forward his condition was not shock, but relief. Relief at the fact that she no longer had to pretend what she felt for Chirag, she knew about his betrayal, that she'd simply used him to escape the confused feelings she held for her best friend, made worse by Disha's accusations all those years ago. And now, to find out, that all the accusations were untrue...

She could admit it now, to herself - because that was the only way she could - she was falling for him. She may not be in love with him, but something was definitely changing. He may talk rudely to her but the anger never reflected in his eyes. Those eyes still belonged to Ranveer, not RV. She knew he may never love her now, and she was okay with that. She could live with his concern only.

Her head swam, all the contradicting thoughts blurring her vision. Tiredness seeped through her pores, as she laid her head down on the bed, deeply inhaling the scent of just him, when he twisted and turned, a collection of tense muscles and taut limbs, caused by her own presence just a few inches away from him. She tried to ease his sleep by quietly slinking off one night, but his hand held hers, even in his sleep.

Her fingers fisted the sheets, clutching them greedily. It was true, you noticed those things when they're no longer there. He was always so generous with his touches when they were friends, the arm that enveloped her with its warmth and completeness whenever Baa's words made her feel cold and alone, the crook of his neck where she nestled her head. Now, it's what she looked for in his distance, searching for it when all she got were silences.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath as she sat up, seeing her own stupidity and stubbornness flashing in front of her eyes. She brought her knees to her chest wondering how her mistakes could leave so much destruction in its wake, so much love lost, hearts locked, keys forgotten.

She didn't know when being alone became such a comfort. She hated it - hated how used to it she had became, how she expected it.

Almost like an answer to her thoughts, from her tear-filled vision she saw Ranveer enter the room quickly, before he looked at her, his steps faltering.

"Ishani? What are you - why are you crying?"

With three long strides, he was on the bed, by her side.

He didn't touch her.

Before Ishani could reply, a sight froze her, the words choked in her throat.

For peeking out from under the sleek, black file in his hands was a paper that held the power to break her.

_Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. _


	5. Hang me up to dry

_**5\. Hang me up to dry-**_

Never had five words yielded the power to break her so irreversibly.

_Petition for Dissolution of Marriage._

The funny thing about life was that she never knew when it was going to change. Sometimes a moment would hit her hard when she was least expecting it; knocking the breath clean from her lungs, chest heaving, heart pounding as she weakly tried to gnaw and grab at any sliver of rationality in the wake of what just happened. The axis on Ishani's globe had shifted many times, yet the shock to her system was as fresh as the first time. Disha's accusation about Ranveer, his return, the forced marriage. Yet, the impending divorce had a sense of finality - that they had finally reached a crossroads where their paths would be completely different from now on, they would be out of each other's lives.

She didn't want that. She wanted them to be firmly entwined - so much so that his happiness would be her own, her sadness and freedom would be his.

Ranveer had once called her the bravest thing ever - a flower growing through a crack in the pavement when she'd attempted to smile despite Baa's cutting words. A warm, soft, kind sign of life amongst cold, lifeless, brutal cobblestones. She'd laughed then, because he was always giving meaning to things that didn't have any and asked him if he was reading Hughes.

He'd be surprised at how brittle she felt now inside out - her heart hanging on a precipice, her frail skin stretched over bone, the silence between them screaming impending doom. Any minute now, a single word from him could break her, and cause everything they'd built to float away.

He knew all the words to take her apart and stitch her back together.

She hated that he had this power over her now.

He wasn't touching her, and she didn't know whether to feel relief or sorrow. If he was touching her, he would immediately sense the panic within her and he may use it to break her more cruelly. And yet, the fact that he wasn't touching her was causing her to fall apart.

"You're divorcing me." She breathed.

Ranveer then realised why her expression had changed from tearful to sheer dread. She'd seen the papers.

"Yes." He said carefully, not sure why she wasn't ecstatic. He was granting her her freedom.

"You want to get rid of me." The resigned words fell from her lips before she could stop them.

A silence shrouded over them, a confused myriad of emotions colouring it.

Ranveer looked at her then. _Really_ looked at her. Her reaction wasn't something he's expected. He'd expected to come home and announce that he was releasing her from this sham of a marriage and that she needn't worry, she would still win the case. He couldn't stand to look at the resentment and hatred in her eyes everyday, that gradual dousing of the anger in her eyes to something faded, broken. He'd realised that his unfair fury was killing her spirit and he couldn't force her to love him and so he was letting her go. He expected her to leap up with happiness, grab and sign the papers with a flourish and walk out of his life forever, never looking back.

He would have to manage without her.

He didn't expect her to react the way she did - the almost imperceptible leaning away from the papers as if they would burn her somehow, and the lack of euphoria in her.

"You...don't want this." His words came out more like confused amazement rather than a question. He was bewildered.

She sniffed in a rather unladylike manner.

"What do you think?" She snapped at him, embarrassed and irritated that he was making her say the words. "I know you hate me now, but give me one more chance Ranveer. We can make this work together. This time, I want it to."

When he didn't say anything, she continued, a tinge of hysteria in her voice. "If you want me to beg, I will, Ranveer. Is that what you want?" She shifted to move to the ground, but Ranveer's arms came around her own to stop her movement.

Suddenly, Ranveer wanted to laugh at the the non existent joke. Hard. He bit the inside of his cheeks to stifle the chuckle that threatened to burst out, knowing that it would only aggravate her further. Here he was, dead set on letting her go believing that she hated him, while she thought he didn't want her anymore. Didn't she know that all his eyes did when she was in the same room as him was follow her around? Or the way his body relaxed whenever he heard her laugh? That even the little snorts that burst out from her when she was laughing too hard were more beautiful than any affected, pretentious giggle other girls made?

But he couldn't tell her that.

"Ishani, you don't love me. Marriages don't work like that."

She turned so that she was facing him, eager and hopeful. "But they do. Mumma married Papa even when she didn't love him in the beginning. Papa always told her that his love was enough for all three of us when he took us in. Mumma had to fall in love with him gradually."

Ranveer shook his head and lowered his arms, his eyes hot and desperate on Ishani's. "No, Falguni Ma only respected him. She was grateful to him for saving you and her and loving you so completely. I don't want you to stay only because you feel indebted to me."

She stared at him incredulously. "I don't! I'm - I...you." She glared at her fingers exasperatedly as she struggled with words. "I want this to work Ranveer. I want this marriage."

His unwavering gaze told her he wasn't going to budge. She wondered if he didn't trust her words at all. It would be fair. She deserved it.

Despite this, she couldn't be angry with him.

And yet, his face was wiped clean of any malice or the smugness of payback.

He genuinely didn't want to hurt her.

He wanted her revel in her freedom, not desert her, he didn't want to take a swing at her and leave her spinning on her ever shifting axis. He wanted to fix her unhappiness, make her whole again in the only way he knew how to, even though it would kill him. By setting her free.

The cruel, heartbreaking irony was, she didn't want to now. She wanted only to sooth his heartache.

In these three months, they were both angry, bitter people.

Ishani had ignored his pain and her own.

He had felt it for both of them, too much.

She could feel the tears, hot streams of salt running unrelentingly down her cheeks, the hopelessness building.

"I need time."

Those were the hardest words she'd ever say.

"Take all the time you want." His voice was soft, patient.

"What if I need months?"

"I don't mind."

"Years?"

He shrugged. "If that's what you need."

She took a deep breath, knowing that her next question would be like the threads on her favourite sweater - she couldn't resist pulling it, despite knowing it could unravel all around her.

"The rest of my life?"

Ranveer looked away from her then, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Ishani..."

"I'm sorry." She said quickly.

"Look, this doesn't have to be the end. We just...can't be married, okay? I'm not ready to lose you either. There was so much bad blood between us when I left. We can be free of this bitterness. We could talk, catch up, rediscover ourselves with each other again."

Ishani scoffed bitterly. "As what? _Friends_?"

In his silence, she found her answer.

They could never be 'just' friends again.


	6. No Escape

_**No Escape-**_

Throughout time, as long as humans have loved, they have believed in soul mates. One person out there, tied to them, the missing piece of their soul. What else could explain that feeling of incompletion, the need to search, to scour the globe until the puzzle piece is found? Everyone from royalty to peasants has searched, has looked into the eyes of another, wondering, is it you? Have I found you?

But fate does not intend an easy path for all. Sometimes, death interferes. Sometimes the world conspires to keep soul mates apart. But sometimes, the bitterest pill to take is the soul mate that has been there all of your life. The soul mate that was right beside you when you wanted to forget them, their indifference, and their oblivion spearing you cruelly each time. The soul mate that is tied to you, and you are shackled to them, even as you struggle to forget them, feel less for them.

Fate dealt a cruel card to Ranveer Vaghela. This was one instance where it may have been better if the souls had never found each other, but, as always, they had been dragged together like black magnets.

On one side of the coin, it was a blessing; because Ranveer had his soul mate by his side since the age of nine. But on the flipside, the blessing was his curse: his soul mate didn't know about his love, he was just a friend, just a servant in her house. It took his most of his youth to realize he was quite inconsequential to her, simply a shoulder when she needed to cry. If only his treacherous heart would understand that! If only his silly heart would stop skipping a beat at the mere sound of her name, if only it would understand that she would only ever bring him heartbreak.

As Ranveer drove towards Mumbai, his eyes trained on the horizon, he forced his mind to stop._Choice_, he told himself. The greatest gift in life was choice. He was given a choice, and he'd taken it- - chose to make his own fortune in the past three years and wealthy enough to make his own respectable name in society. He took some deep breaths, trying to calm the hammering in his chest and stared at the purple-smudge clouds hovering over Mumbai like bruises. He'd returned to the city after three years. The city that held bittersweet memories of her.

He deliberately relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, the last shaft of sunlight glinting off his bright engagement ring - a pinch, a punch; as if reminding him that thinking of Ishaani in such a way now would entail betrayal to the woman he was supposed to marry in two months.

_He had moved on._

Or that's what he told himself.

He allowed the pleasure of the cool wind from the sea to soothe him, and wound down his window to breathe the sweet air. He tried to stop feeling like he was driving into battle. Even though he was.

Ranveer's car slid down the driveway of the mansion. He imagined his car was a sentient creature, that knew its way, and he smiled at the silly thought. When he was a child, he had always fancied inanimate objects to be alive; to have personalities and opinions, purposes and fates, things that he himself was denied at every turn. He had instead contented himself with naming a tree, a chair, his hand me down bicycle from Sharman, ridiculous childish names, imagining them to be his friends, aides on his quest. When Ishaani had found out, he had been taunted mercilessly, and he had forced himself to abandon these thoughts.

_Ishaani,_ his traitorous mind squeaked with a tinge of hysteria. Stop, he warned his mind, taking a healing deep breath and began a short visualization technique. His father always told him to envisage the best possible outcome instead of jumping to a worse case scenario. Ranveer imagined arriving in Mumbai, the sun breaking through the clouds and the rain stopping. He imagined stepping out of his car, feeling the crunch of gravel in the Parekh's sweeping driveway.

Getting into the vision now, Ranveer relaxed further, picturing being met by the Parekh family in the foyer. Sharman would punch his shoulder, remarking how his lanky frame hadn't changed at all, while Prateek and Disha would ask if he had got them any gifts, now that he was a rich man. Falguni Ma would kiss his forehead and he would smell her comforting perfume, her motherly scent.

Ishaani would be there, too. She would excitedly exclaim that it had been at least ten years since they had seen each other, exaggerating as always - while he would correct her with a smile. She might joke with him about some of their childhood crimes, about how they used to play pranks on Baa and tease him about how he used to ask her to put butterscotch ice cream on his wounds. And as he leaned down to embrace her, he would feel... nothing.

As they pulled away from each other, he would look at her in relief, knowing it was finally over, and she was finally out of his system. They would all congratulate him on his engagement and success, and Devarsh would go to find a bottle of champagne.

And then, Ranveer would climb the stairs to the second floor, to see his Mota Babuji. He would be propped up in bed, looking remarkably well and not at all ravaged by cancer, and a dark suited specialist would exclaim to Falguni Ma that it was a miracle. They would all drink toasts to Harshad Parekh's health, to Ranveer's happiness, and...

A knock on his window brought him out of his far-fetched fantasy. He pressed a button to roll down the glass and let out a hollow laugh as he spoke to the watchman. There was positive visualization, and then there was deluding oneself. His heart heavy, he drove onwards towards grief.

Maybe, it would be okay, Ranveer thought as he smiled tightly at his Mota Babuji as the latter held his hand weakly. The cancer was deep and invasive, gently sucking the life out of the man Ranveer had placed on the highest pedestal and revered so deeply. He ignored the burn behind his eyelids as he realized Harshad Parekh did not have very long to live. Everyone in the house had greeted him warmly, if a little sadly. He wanted to ignored Falguni Ma's words.

_Ab tum yaha ho na, ab Ishaani aur hum sab theekh ho jaaenge._

He no longer belonged to Ishaani, his responsibilities and priorities lay elsewhere, Ranveer wanted to tell her. Everyone seemed ecstatic at the ring on his finger, and had asked if they could see the lucky girl's photo. His smiled strained, and chest tight, he gave them his phone, showing the face of Anaya, the woman he was to marry.

"Lo, aa gayi Ishaani!"

His hands fisted and he tensed, his thumb twirling the ring around his left ring finger as it suddenly felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds. He schooled his face, plastering a bright smile as he turned around, only to be blinded by her beauty yet again.

His heart faltered.

His breath stopped.

_Woh pal jab meri saansein ruk gayi, aur meri zindagi shuru hui._

She smiled softly at him as he stared, entranced, his heart dying a million deaths once again.

He would never win. There was no escape.

_Aaj bhi, uski saansein, uski aashiqui, usse hi. _


End file.
